


Red Sand

by peculiva



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Major Character Injury, Steve Rogers Feels, Stony Bingo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 11:44:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peculiva/pseuds/peculiva
Summary: There is a hole in Tony's side. As in an actual hole caused by a jagged piece of metal that once must have held the place up. Now it's no longer supporting large concrete floors but lodged in Tony's torso.





	Red Sand

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
This is my fill for the Hurt/Comfort Bingo 2019 for MCU Stony, featuring a good bit of angst because I'm a sucker for that shit. Well, just beware of the tags since there is some graphic description of a major injury.
> 
> This story is set some time after CA: TWS.  
Also, Pepper doesn't exist in this universe because I love her and she don't need more trouble :)
> 
> And thanks a lot to NepetaKitty on Discord for looking over this fic!

"Seriously, I just got that thing a new paint job so would you mind getting a little less blood on it?"

Tony's voice is slightly tinny through the suit's comms system but the unnerved tilt to it is still evident in his tone. Steve smiles and plonks the edge of his shield into the neck of the man closest to him. The effect is immediate and a rather unpleasant sight so he pulls it out and lets the guy drop down without a second glance. There is more to take care of, what's left of HYDRA's armada desperately trying to resist the end they were supposed to meet more than seventy years ago.

"Sorry" he says, not at all sounding apologetic as he throws the shield again, successfully decapitating another agent before letting it bounce off the wall and catching it again.

"But I'm prioritizing taking out these assholes over keeping this thing clean, even if it cost you a fortune."

"You wound me" Tony answers with a twist of his arm that cuts three of their enemies in half. He's getting good at that, Steve has to admit. Ever since New York Tony has been improving the armor, and the laser cutter with it, much to the chagrin of their quickly diminishing human obstacles.

"Yeah, you seem very wounded, especially with the blood of the enemy running down you. What was that about keeping it clean?"

"Pfff" Tony scoffs, undoubtedly about to shoot back something about how it's his money and he's allowed to get as dirty as he wants, but before he can retort anything like that there is a weird crunch somewhere above them, followed by a short rain of dust and tiny rocks.

Steve pauses to look up, same as Tony and their opponents and so it's eerily quiet for a second before the whole ceiling comes crashing down.

And everything goes dark.

\---

The first thing he registers is a sharp pain in his back. It feels like a rough little rock, trapped below him and it's really uncomfortable so he rolls to the side, off the annoying thing and the pain eases up instantly. Only to give way to his whole body aching all over. Like he was hit by a truck. 

Or a ceiling.

Blinking his eyes open, the last moments before he passed out come back as he takes in what used to be the building above him. Or at least the upper level of that building. 

It's hard to see anything because of the dust swirling around, itching in his eyes and nose but after a few clearing blinks his pupils adjust to the new arrangements and he looks around. 

There are large pieces of stone everywhere, some of them with wires and bent beams sticking out. 

He's alone.

Whatever caused the level above him to collapse managed to bury most of the main hall under concrete, including the remaining HYDRA agents, if the suspiciously red puddle coming out from under a chunk left from him, where Steve is sure one of these swastika imbeciles stood just prior to the collapse, is anything to go by.

It's quiet too, no gunfire perforating the walls and no tell-tale high-pitched sound of repulsors blasting through the air.

Steve is on his feet before he knows it, stumbling when a wave of dizziness hits him. He shakes it off and whips his head around, scanning the whole room for any sign of activity. Tony was near the middle of the hall when the ceiling came down on them, he's fairly certain of that. 

There is a huge piece of building between him and the center though so he shuffles around it as fast as he can, still a little unsteady but regaining more of his balance with every step. 

He's still shaking off the effects of his absence and there is something sticky running down his temple. Must have been a smaller rock that knocked him out. Most of the ground is covered in relatively small bits of stone, not small enough to be non-life threatening to a person but no problem for someone in a weaponized high tech suit. 

Probably.

Before he fully makes his way around the large boulder his gaze sweeps across the southern wall of the room. He stops. 

There is what looks like a control panel right at the edge where the second floor fell down onto the ground level. Right in the middle of the panel there is a big red button, a metal plate with words below. 

SELF-DESTRUCTION

It's no potassium cyanide capsules but it's still HYDRA through and through to rather die than end up in the hands of the enemy. Though as much as he would like to get every last one of them back to life just so they can receive the appropriate punishment, Steve's got other things to worry about. 

Meaning, finding Tony.

He takes the last step around the stone in the middle. And nearly drops back to his knees in relief when he spots the familiar subtlety of gold and flaming red a few yards ahead of him. 

Iron Man is on his back, slightly propped up by a part of the building behind his torso. He isn't moving but that's not what makes Steve lurch forward and stumble down next to him.

  


There is a hole in Tony's side. As in an actual hole caused by a jagged piece of metal that once must have held the place up. Now it's no longer supporting large concrete floors but lodged in Tony's torso. 

Yet Steve is the one who can't breathe.

He can't breathe looking at this thing jutting out of Tony because it is NOT supposed to be there. It's big, and wide, and rusty. Pinning Tony to the ground. 

There's also blood. A lot of it, pooling around the wound, blurring the edges between steel and skin and flesh. He spots some white that might be bone and there is no fucking air in his lungs.

Unlike Steve, Tony is breathing very fast, almost panting actually. There is a big tear in the armor where the metal went through it so Steve can see his chest moving up and down at a frantic pace. Trying to get oxygen into his body with as little movement as possible. From the looks of it, the beam is not only piercing Tony's insides but also putting pressure on his lungs so it must be hard as hell to get any air at all.

Fuck.

Okay, he needs to think. He needs to work out a plan, keep a level head. The only chance there is for them to even have a small shot at making it out of here alive is by Steve remaining calm. And usually he's not too bad at that, though usually Tony isn't lying there with a piece of metal stuck in him either, usually they have backup, fighters, weapons, medical, and usually Tony is in the middle of it all, being a cocky son of a bitch. Fuck.

_Breathe. In and out. Measured._

He hears someone talking and it takes him a moment to realize it's himself. He's saying the words out loud but he has no idea whether it's for himself or Tony, who must somehow still be awake judging by his rapid breathing, even with a steel girder in his guts. 

"Breathe" Steve repeats, forcing himself to keep the next lungful inside for a few seconds before releasing it. It's supposed to calm you down and it's helping somewhat, allowing him to focus back on his friend lying helplessly in his own blood. Tony either doesn't register his words or can't follow the instructions because he's still wheezing, staying completely still except for the faint rise and fall of his chest.

In a swift motion, that is more reflex than a conscious action, Steve grabs his wrist and checks Tony's pulse. 

Too fast. Not that he expected anything else. 

Steve has seen enough injuries during the war to know that Tony's experiencing a shock.

The only silver lining right now is the relatively small amount of blood oozing out of the wound. It is a lot but judging by the severity of the injury itself, it could be worse. The metal bar must be blocking Tony's arteries, not allowing his heart to pump out all the blood at once. 

For the moment. 

It doesn't mean anything, he reminds himself, he can only guess at the damage the piece has done to Tony's internal organs. For all Steve knows, he could be dead within the next three minutes.

_Breathe_.

He allows himself three more intakes of air before he gets himself into action. 

Bracing himself on his shins and knees he props one leg up and places it on the edge of the wound before he presses down with his whole weight. He's careful not to touch the bar. Jostling it would mean even worse damage.

There is a switch, formed by years of serving as a soldier. 

Once it's flipped, he doesn't stop. 

For a short moment, Tony becomes someone without a face. Without a history, without family and friends. He becomes a subject. An objective. 

_Alive_.

Steve goes straight for the helmet. His fingers find the hidden catches under the jaw piece with ease. He tries not to think about the testament of trust it is that he knows how to manually open the armor. Tony showed him about a year ago, right before they set on an array of missions that were supposed to eradicate every last bit of HYDRA. With only a few minor posts left, each of them small and easy, the Avengers had decided to split up. Two days ago, Tony and Steve got on a plane to take out Camp Red in southern Namibia, the smallest of them all. 

And now here they are.

_Breathe_.

He pushes at the latches that respond instantly, causing the faceplate to flip open. 

It's to be expected but the sight of Tony's ashen face is a punch to the gut nonetheless.

There are beads of sweat forming at his temples and his eyes are big and unfocused, their usual warm brown barely visible around blown pupils.

This is bad.

The reason for the wide pupils reveals itself when Steve lifts the helmet off of Tony's head. There is blood coating the inner part of the helmet and he can feel warm wetness as he cups the back of Tony's head. Why stop at one major injury, right fate?

He ignores Tony's wide-eyed stare as he takes the helmet and puts it on himself. Steve isn't sure whether he's able to process what's happening but he doubts it since he's barely able to do so himself. He sends a prayer of gratitude to whatever forces led Tony to install an iris scanning mechanism programmed for Steve as well, when the HUD displays a pile of various data around the edges of his sight. 

There is the temperature and damage status of the suit, coordinates and remaining weapon arsenal. 

He ignores the blinking warning signs that are going off on the right, the helmet still being connected with the rest of the suit and beeping with Tony's worsening vitals. 

It sets his already churning stomach on fire but freaking out won't help anybody, least of all Tony, so he clenches his fists and concentrates on the list of frequently used contact information in the upper left corner. There is his own headset right at the top, though now broken and useless but right below Natasha's name is blinking and Steve selects it. 

As far as he knows, Nat is at the tower, catching up on some well-deserved rest after successfully taking out a post with Clint. They'd just talked before entering the camp. Not long before it all went south. 

It takes less than two seconds for her to pick up because it's Nat and Steve feels himself threatening to crumble right then and there. Succumb to the full on mental breakdown that's looming over him because Tony's still looking into nothingness and there is a lot of red, and the immediate alert in Nat's voice when she asks "What is it?" is just too much.

"Hey, it's Steve" he croaks, even though she can see that on her phone and she knows his voice anyway, "we got into trouble. Tony's down. He needs a doctor." 

It's about as fast and short as he can manage and he clamps his mouth shut before he can go on about how he has no idea whether a doctor would actually make a difference here, and that's throwing aside the pressing argument of time. 

It will take hours before anyone gets here, even if Nat sends back up right away. The next airport is hours away and even SHIELD's fastest quinjet is going to take a while until it lands in the desert surrounding them. 

But that doesn't matter because it's the only chance they have, little as it is, so he tells Nat to get the thing equipped with medical supplies and staff and up in the air. "Already done" is all Nat says, "heading toward it now, I'm gonna fly it. See you in a couple hours."

It's that exact moment that the helmet decides to shut itself down, one last beeping alarm ringing before the whole thing goes dark and silent. Leaving Steve hollow and empty with the lack of data rolling over the HUD.

He rips the helmet off and casts it to the side. What matters it that he got the message out and help is on the way, now it's all about buying time until Nat actually makes it here. Buying time they can't afford.

"Tony?" He feels warm blood seeping through the leg of his uniform where he's pushing down. "Tony, can you hear me?" 

It takes a firm slap on his cheek to get Tony's attention, though it's only a shred. 

He seems to register Steve now, his brows creasing and lips parting as if to say something but all that comes out is an unintelligible gurgle. It sounds a lot like there is blood clogging up in Tony's throat and Steve can feel himself starting to shiver.

He clasps Tony's cheek with the hand that isn't busy pushing against the wound in addition to him almost literally sitting on top of him. 

"Hey, Shellhead, I need you to focus, okay? On your breath and on me, all right?"

He sounds desperate even in his own ears but Tony's gaze is starting to look a little more lucid. Maybe the hit to his head wasn't so bad after all. Tiny hopes.

He wishes he could do more but with a piece of steel puncturing Tony's organs like an oversized needle and nothing remotely close to gauze and blood donations available all he can do is try to contain the bleeding as much as possible. You're supposed to elevate someone's leg when they have gone into shock but he doesn't have anything to prop them up and even if he had, he can't risk taking off pressure on the wound.

There is still blood leaking into his clothes, coating his left hand that's pushing down. 

He presses harder and Tony emits a noise that jolts right through Steve like an electric shock. But he doesn't ease up. 

Despite the look of utter terror on Tony's face, despite his desperate cries in between his short breaths, Steve doesn't let go.

_You wound me_ keeps ringing in his ears, the irony of the words echoing through his head, each time louder than the last. 

It makes him sick.

  
  
  


For some unfathomable reason Tony doesn't lose consciousness. Though Steve doubts it has anything to do with less-than terrible circumstances health-wise but rather the adrenaline that keeps hitting his body, he is beyond relieved to see Tony's eyes open and set on him. 

He can hear himself babbling away at nothing, rambling about the copious amounts of red sand everywhere and how it somehow feels like they're in Utah. 

It's bullshit from beginning to end but he doesn't care, he just keeps talking until Tony opens his mouth again, but this time it's not a sound of pain that comes out, but words.

"What did I tell you?" He pauses, letting out a pained cough, "No mess on the equipment. Blood is a bitch to get off." 

Steve doesn't respond because if he did he's sure he would be screaming bloody murder. Leave it to Tony to show his dark sense of humor even when he's bleeding out right under Steve's hands. 

He shouldn't have expected anything else. It's Tony. 

Tony, who drives him up the wall every day, every second. Who never shuts up even when he really, really should, who can't stop working, who keeps snacks hidden in every room of his enormous tower just in case he's got an appetite. Who turns the volume up on AC/DC until Steve is ready to rip his own enhanced eardrums out and who leaves him speechless again and again because no one should be able to have that much self-esteem. 

Tony, who literally shields himself in a full body armour. Tony, who has to be stopped from drinking the whole bottle some nights, who fills the air with sarcasm and math equations just so there is noise. Tony who disguises his fears in an endless stream of back talk and jokes, who smiles big for the public and genuine for his friends. 

"Fuck you, all you need is cold water" is what he says because there are tears burning behind his eyes and if Tony wants to continue this ridiculous teasing match then he'll go along. Because this might be all they have left.

He doesn't say anything about how Tony went from unnerving asshole to respected colleague and friend over the years. Tony probably knows that anyway.

And yet, there is something Tony probably doesn't know and it feels like Steve should tell him because this might be his last chance.

He keeps quiet.

His pants and gloves are soaked red, the sand beneath them no longer rusty but crimson. 

If Tony survives this, Steve might open his mouth one day. If he doesn't, he won't ruin his last moments with something they won't be able to untangle in the little time they have left.

He tries to smile instead. It's a mess. He can feel bruises forming all over his body from where bits of concrete hit him. Tony doesn't smile back and Steve is glad for it because he's certain Tony's teeth would be stained red.

He keeps smiling, keeps muttering words that are supposed to be reassuring, though he doesn't know who they're supposed to help. Keeps pushing down.

And then he decides to fuck it and lowers his head until his forehead is resting against Tony's. 

One hand still displayed over the wound, body strangely angled around the bar killing and saving Tony all the same, his other hand on Tony's neck. Feeling a weakening heartbeat beneath his fingers and salty tears slide down his cheeks and onto Tony's face. 

He's closed his eyes because whatever this is, he doesn't want to face it. He doesn't want to see Tony's reaction. He doesn't want to watch him die.

And as they keep waiting, Steve doesn't know whether Tony lets him stay, pressed together as they are, because he feels the same or if he's finally drifting off into oblivion and beyond.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!
> 
> Any kind of feedback would be highly appreciated, including criticism. I'm kinda stuck with all my writing at the moment so if you got any ideas how to improve it, I would love to hear them!


End file.
